


Five Times Sherlock Failed To Recognize A Popular Music Reference (and one time he used one to great effect)

by methylviolet10b



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst and Humor, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-24
Updated: 2012-02-24
Packaged: 2017-10-31 16:04:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/345954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methylviolet10b/pseuds/methylviolet10b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pretty much what it says in the title.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Sherlock Failed To Recognize A Popular Music Reference (and one time he used one to great effect)

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this fic as a prize for goldvermilion87. She asked for Sherlock, humor, and snark. This is what my brain came up with. Random songs, various attempts at humor, and completely pointless. You have been warned.

 

**  
**

**5\. The Who: Pinball Wizard**

As Sherlock examined the body of what might be the latest victim of the serial killer stalking Islington, Anderson nudged Donovan with his elbow. “I finally figured out how he does it,” he whispered nastily.

“Oh?” Donovan’s one-word response was enough encouragement for Anderson to continue.

“’He ain’t got no distractions, can’t hear those buzzers and bells.’”

“’That deaf, dumb, and blind kid sure plays a mean pinball,’” Donovan finished.

Over to the side, John bristled as he overheard the conversation. He took one step towards them, only to stop as Sherlock rose to his feet.

“No. Definitely not the killer’s work. This is a garden-variety homicide; you’ll want to interview the victim’s boyfriend, Lestrade. Even Anderson should have been able to see the differences – except he’s apparently too busy being enamoured of blind game-players as well as being blind himself.” He strode to John’s side. “Come on, John.”

“Did you understand that?” John murmured as they got into a cab.

“Understand what?” Sherlock looked blank.

“Never mind,” John told him. “It was just a stupid pop-culture reference.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone. “Boring.”

**  
**

**4\. Queen: Radio Ga-Ga**

They’d been stuck in the tiny, backwater train station for hours. The small TV set bolted to one end of the counter droned on and on with coverage of Prime Minister’s Question Time.

“Can’t you change the channel?” Lestrade groaned.

“Nope; dial’s broke,” the station-master replied laconically before going back to his book.

Sitting on the uncomfortable bench, John banged his head once against the wall. “God. Just listen to them. Radio Ga-Ga.”

“Radio Blah-Blah,” Lestrade agreed.

Sherlock looked up from his phone, a puzzled expression on his face. “What? There’s no radio here.”

John and Lestrade exchanged a commiserating glance before chorusing in union: “Never mind.”

 

**3\. Eric Clapton: Crossroads**

It had been a long, rotten day. John didn’t often indulge in moping, but he felt perilously close to it, particularly when he saw the towering pile of dirty dishes in the sink. He briefly considered leaving the mess to Sherlock – after all, most of it was his – and then shuddered as he realized the probable consequences. Sighing, he rolled up his sleeves and started washing.

“I went down to the crossroads, tried to flag a ride,” he sang absently as he scrubbed at a particularly stuck-on bit. (What the bit was, he was afraid to speculate.)

“John?” Sherlock’s voice broke John out of his reverie. He looked up to see Sherlock studying him intently, his pale eyes curious. “What are you singing?”

“Nothing,” John demurred. “Just a song from the radio.”

Sherlock stared at him for several more seconds, his face inscrutable. “Whatever. As long as you’re doing dishes, I need tea.” He turned and vanished back into the sitting-room.

John ground his teeth. Suddenly the next lyric felt all too bloody appropriate. _Nobody seemed to know me, everybody passed me by._

 

**2\. The Clash: London Calling**

“Some days, I wonder why we keep trying.”

John blinked as Sally’s comment registered. He looked up from where he was trying (and failing) to get a halfway decent cup of tea out of the break-room machine. “What do you mean?”

She waved at him vaguely with one hand. “Look at us. You’re worn to the bone, and I’m no better. Everyone at the Yard is working themselves into the ground, and we can’t even keep up with the new cases, much less make any headway on the old ones. Even with “volunteer assistance” from concerned citizens, like yourself and…” She cut herself off, flushing slightly, and John knew she’d just censored herself from using a certain nickname. “Even _he_ ’s looking a bit fagged, and I never thought I’d see the day when he’d had too much, seen too many cases. Lost that maniac sparkle in his eye.”

“It’s just for the moment,” John told her. “There are always times like this, where everything comes at once and it gets too much, but it never lasts. It’ll get better.”

She sighed. “Maybe, maybe not. ‘London is drowning, and I live by the river.’”

“No you don’t,” Sherlock said. Both Sally and John jumped, startled; neither had heard him approaching. “You don’t live anywhere near the Thames.”

 

**1\. The Beatles: Act Naturally**

“It’s simple enough, John,” Sherlock argued. “All you have to do is go up to the door, knock, and pretend that you’re Douglas Maberly’s literary agent, looking for the revised copy of _the first draft you already have_. It should be simple.”

“Sherlock, I know nothing about being a literary agent, or the publishing business!”

“Nonsense. You keep that blog, after all – and you’ve had several stories published online. It should be easy for you. Just act like you usually do.”

“’All I’ve got to do is act naturally,’ you mean?”

“Exactly.”

“Oh, sure. ’I bet you I’m going to be a big star.’” John groused. “’Might win an Oscar, you can never tell.’”

Sherlock looked annoyed. “What are you talking about? You’re not pretending to be an actor, but a literary agent. Pay attention.”

John shook his head. “How can anyone – even you – not recognize a quote from the Beatles?”

 

**And one time he used one to great effect: James Q. Rich - Yakety Sax***

Perhaps Lestrade should have been expecting it, but it had been quite some time since Sherlock had pulled a similar stunt. Not since shortly after he’d started sharing the flat with John, in fact. Lestrade had decided – well, hoped really – that Sherlock had either grown out of it, or just wasn’t that bored anymore, now that he had a friend to run around with at crime scenes.

Then again, given the sheer _nuisance_ Dimmock had made of himself at their last crime scene together – one with both Sherlock and John in attendance – he should have realized _something_ would come of it.

John opened the door of 221b with a pleased smile. “Hullo, Greg. You’ve brought the files?” He took them as he asked.

“And some curry takeaway, and my copy of Holy Grail, if we happen to get through the files quickly enough, or Sherlock wants to brood over them in private,” he acknowledged with a grin. “I figured it might be a long one, so we might as well enjoy ourselves.”

“That’s good – “ John broke off as both his and Greg’s mobiles rang simultaneously. There was a brief shuffle as both men set things down and dug out their devices.

In perfect synchronicity, a video file opened on their phones and began to play. The instantly recognizable strains of Yakety Sax – as rendered on a single well-played Strad – started playing as a video of Dimmock appeared. Well-rendered CCTV footage showed him running down a street, followed closely by several outraged women brandishing various signs – and one umbrella – trailed by a bemused crowd of unlikely individuals.

Upstairs, Sherlock watched the feed from the web cam mounted in the entryway of 221b. He smiled as he watched John and Lestrade laugh so hard they sagged against the wall, tears of mirth rolling down their cheeks. _Perfect_ , he thought. Their reactions verified his understanding of that particular bit of popular music and its use in this context. His smile turned into a smirk as he pressed the button that sent that particular video to every Inspector in the Yard.

 

 

*Yakety Sax is much better known by its alias, “The Benny Hill Theme”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted July 9, 2011


End file.
